Isabella hurried out of the hotel, her disheveled appearance making it seem as though she were fleeing from the place.

The moment she got into the cab, a sinking feeling hit her. After leaving the two hundred-dollar bills behind, she was penniless. She didn't even have a phone with her.

When the cab stopped outside Brynn's apartment building, Isabella called and had Brynn come out to pay the fare. After that, Isabella confronted her friend. "How could you let some random man take me away last night?"

Brynn stared at her in disbelief as she spoke. "How is that my fault? You're the one who clung to him and refused to let him go."

Those words made Isabella blush again.

After taking a closer look at her, Brynn noticed the marks on Isabella's neck and said with barely contained excitement, "Judging by those hickeys, things must've gotten intense last night."

That teasing remark dragged Isabella back to everything that had happened.

Her mind drifted back to the man's heated touch and the passion in his eyes. He had taken control so effortlessly that she'd abandoned every trace of caution and surrendered to the moment.

Determined to shut those memories out, she shook her head and redirected the conversation. "Where's my phone?"

Brynn handed it over and said, "Nice attempt at changing the subject. You must've had a great time with him. I can't blame you, though. He was ridiculously handsome. I tried to follow you last night, but several bodyguards suddenly appeared and stopped me."

Instead of listening, Isabella focused on the messages filling her screen. Brynn's voice faded into the background, and none of her final words registered.

Among the notifications were several missed calls from Ryan, but Isabella had no intention of returning them. Whatever had once existed between them was over, and there was nothing more to discuss.

At the top of the call history, an unfamiliar number finally caught her attention. The call had come shortly after she'd left the hotel that morning.

Though it was an unknown number, Isabella already knew who it belonged to. Her fingertip lingered above the screen for a moment before she tapped the call icon.

Someone answered right away. The response came so quickly that Isabella didn't have time to prepare herself.

"Ms. Dawson?"

A rich, deep voice sounded through the phone, and Isabella fell silent for a second.

Something about that voice stirred a faint sense of recognition.

Rather than dwell on the strange feeling, Isabella collected herself and said, "Hello, Mr. Bennett. I reached out to you yesterday because I'd like to talk to you about your daughter, Sylvia."

"We'll speak face-to-face," the man replied in a curt and emotionless tone.

Although his voice had seemed familiar at first, Isabella soon convinced herself that her mind was playing tricks on her.

After all, the possibility that the man she had slept with last night was Sylvia's father seemed absurd. He looked far too young to have a daughter her age.

"Please send me the address, Mr. Bennett," she said.

"All right."

The man ended the call after his brief response, and an address appeared on Isabella's phone moments later.

Seeing it made her frown slightly.

Noticing her troubled expression, Brynn leaned closer and asked, "What's wrong? Is the address suspicious?"

Isabella spoke with a hint of unease. "It's the same hotel I walked out of this morning."

Could it really be nothing more than a coincidence?

The man from last night came to Isabella's mind when she connected the familiar voice with the address on her screen.

Still, she dismissed the thought with a quick shake of her head. The odds of something so absurd happening to her were far too slim.

"You're seriously meeting Sylvia's father?" Brynn raised her voice in shock.

Confused by Brynn's dramatic reaction, Isabella looked at her strangely. "What, am I supposed to let Ryan use me as a stepping stone to climb the social ladder?"

If she just divorced Ryan quietly, that would be exactly what he wanted. She would make sure Sylvia's father saw Ryan's true colors so Ryan's plans would fall apart.

Should Ryan dare to exploit her, she'd take everything from him, and he'd better be ready to face the consequences.

Once Isabella tucked her phone away, she changed into the clothes Brynn had lent her and headed out to meet the man.

...

Following the address she'd received, Isabella returned to the hotel and took the elevator straight to the highest floor. When she reached the correct suite and lifted her hand to knock, she discovered that the door had been left slightly open.

Had Sylvia's father deliberately left it that way for her arrival?

Assuming the man had thoughtfully spared her the trouble of knocking, Isabella pushed the door open without giving it much consideration and stepped inside.

Every suite on the top floor was presidential. Beyond the door stretched a vast living area, and near the floor-to-ceiling window stood a man dressed in a suit.

The moment Isabella saw him, she recognized him. Memories of the heated night she'd spent with him rushed back, and her feet froze before she could take another step.

"Mr. Bennett?" Isabella said with caution.

At the sound of her voice, the man standing by the window slowly turned to face her.

The moment Isabella saw the familiar face, she recoiled without thinking. Her expression stiffened as shock drained the color from her face.

Taking in her pale complexion, Isaac offered a slight smile. "Ms. Dawson, it seems our paths have crossed again."

Disbelief swept through Isabella. The stranger she'd spent the night with turned out to be Sylvia's father.

On her way to the hotel, Isabella had repeatedly assured herself that the chances of such an absurd coincidence were nearly impossible. Yet fate had still thrown her into this unbelievable situation.

Refusing to believe what she was seeing, Isabella asked for confirmation, "Are you really Sylvia's father?"

Noticing the unease in her expression, Isaac regarded her with a brief flash of amusement. "I'm not related to her by blood."

The tension in Isabella's body melted away in relief. However, before she could settle down, the implication behind his answer finally struck her.

"Does that mean you're her stepfather?" she asked as uneasiness tightened her voice once more.

Isaac lifted an eyebrow at the question. "You've misunderstood the situation, Ms. Dawson. I only provide for Sylvia. Someone who once helped me entrusted her to me before he died, so I've taken responsibility for looking after her."

Isabella froze in shock, realizing she'd misunderstood the situation.

He gestured to a nearby couch. "Please, sit down."

While Isaac remained perfectly at ease, Isabella lowered herself onto the couch with visible stiffness. He then took the seat opposite her.

Settling back with his legs crossed, he picked up a tablet and spoke in the same rich voice she remembered. "Would you care for a drink? Milk might be best. I doubt you've had breakfast yet."

Without waiting for her response, he arranged it on her behalf with such effortless consideration that Isabella had no chance to refuse.

Warm milk filled the glass in Isabella's hands, but it did little to calm her nerves. After wrestling with her thoughts for a while, she finally asked, "Are you aware that Sylvia is interfering in my marriage?"

Isaac placed his coffee on the table before saying, "My name is Isaac Higgins. I'm fairly certain I told you that last night, Ms. Dawson."

"Well..." Isabella couldn't think of anything else to say.

Isaac continued, "Regarding your accusation, I only became aware of the situation recently. I still don't have the complete story about what's happening between Sylvia and your husband."

Despite the uncomfortable history between them, Isabella's embarrassment gradually faded when Isaac kept the conversation formal and detached.

She explained everything that had happened between Sylvia and Ryan.

In the end, she made her stance clear. "Mr. Higgins, if Sylvia was entrusted to you, then you need to make sure she understands that her behavior is unacceptable."

Silence followed her demand as Isaac considered her words. After several moments, a quiet, humorless laugh left him.

Something about the sound carried a trace of mockery, though Isabella couldn't tell whether it was aimed at himself or at her. Before she could interpret it, Isaac spoke. "What interests me is what you plan to do afterward, Ms. Dawson. Once I've dealt with Sylvia, are you intending to return to your husband and repair your marriage?"

His question immediately drew Isabella's brows together.

"Mr. Higgins, my personal life is not up for discussion. You're overstepping."

Isabella was caught off guard by Isaac's question. She paused briefly before a trace of irritation surfaced across her face, her tone turning frosty.

She saw no reason why someone outside her marriage should pry into what existed between her and Ryan.

Isaac remained perfectly composed. Settling farther into his chair, he looked completely relaxed.

"I usually have no interest in other people's relationships. However, after what happened between us yesterday... if you reconcile with your husband, does that not leave me cast as the man you cheated with?"

The irritation vanished from Isabella's face, replaced by a weary frown as her confidence faltered.

She had been hoping Isaac would simply forget about everything that had taken place the previous day. Instead, the topic had somehow found its way back.

Although she had been intoxicated, she clearly remembered that she had been the one who initiated everything between them.

Keeping her lips pressed together, she remained silent for quite some time before finally speaking. "What happened last night was a mistake made in the heat of the moment. Could we both act as though it never occurred?"

Isaac chuckled softly. Isabella stared at him, unable to understand what amused him.

"Is this why you left me two hundred dollars this morning as payment? You wanted me to pretend nothing had happened last night?"

He reached into his pocket, pulled out the two wrinkled bills, and pushed them toward her across the table.

A playful smile tugged at his lips. "Exchanging money for something like that is against the law. I cannot accept your payment."

Isabella had no reply to that.

Unable to withstand the unwavering look in his eyes, she eventually admitted what she truly felt. "Mr. Higgins, you don't have to concern yourself with that. Even if the person who betrayed me begged for another chance, I would never take him back."

Isaac gave a small nod, the sternness in his face easing at last. "Then you have my full support, Ms. Dawson."

Isabella acknowledged him with a nod, although she had no desire to involve him any further. "Just keep Sylvia under control. And don't let my husband benefit from your influence. I'll deal with everything else myself."

A quiet laugh escaped Isaac. "Would it really upset you if he became successful after the divorce?"

"Absolutely," Isabella answered without the slightest hesitation, stressing every syllable with complete sincerity.

Straightening in her seat, she spoke in an even colder voice. "Honestly, I cannot understand what Sylvia finds appealing about my husband. Compared with you, the profits from his company probably wouldn't even equal the allowance you hand her in a single year."

As far as Isabella was concerned, even if Isaac's generosity toward Sylvia stemmed from gratitude for her late parent, it was obvious he treasured her deeply. Otherwise, he would never have tolerated behavior as outrageous as hers.

Lost in her own thoughts, Isabella completely missed the flash of astonishment that crossed Isaac's face.

He chose not to address it. Instead, he asked, "When do you intend to divorce your husband?"

A faint crease formed between Isabella's brows. She refused to expose the ugliness inside her marriage, so she responded flatly, "That is not your business."

Recognizing that she had drawn a boundary, Isaac let the matter drop. Instead, he gently offered a reminder. "Have you thought about what you'll do if your husband refuses to agree to the divorce?"

A shadow settled over her features. "What exactly are you implying?"

Lifting his gaze, he met her eyes from across the table. His stare concealed something impossible to read, carrying an unsettling edge.

Supporting his chin with one hand, he spoke in a rich, low voice that carried an almost dangerous allure. "Ms. Dawson, you need to take responsibility for everything that happened between us last night. How about this? I'll settle for being your boyfriend. But you'll have to keep our affair a secret for now."

Those words completely changed Isabella's expression. She sprang to her feet, staring at him in utter disbelief.

After everything he had said, that was the conclusion she had never expected.

Her cheeks burning with humiliation and anger, she shot back, "I'm not that sort of woman!"

"Just kidding. If you ever need assistance, I can introduce you to an excellent divorce attorney." After a brief pause, he acted as though he just remembered something. "I nearly forgot—you studied law, didn't you? Perhaps you won't need one."

The color drained slightly from Isabella's face. "How did you know..."

Her voice cut off abruptly. It finally struck her that she had never once introduced herself after entering the suite, yet he had addressed her as Ms. Dawson from the very beginning as though they were already acquainted.

How had he learned so much about her?

"Perhaps our paths crossed long ago," Isaac said with another faint smile.

Isabella looked at the subtle curve of his lips. An inexplicable shiver crept through her body, leaving her with the urge to put as much distance between them as possible.

"I think we've talked enough today," she said. "If I need anything, I'll reach out."

Privately, she prayed that day would never come.

With those words, she hurried out of the presidential suite, overwhelmed by embarrassment.

The man left her deeply unsettled. Somehow, he had uncovered everything he wanted to know while revealing almost nothing about himself.

For the first time, she questioned whether mentioning Sylvia to him had been a reckless decision.

...

After departing the hotel, Isabella returned to the apartment she and Ryan called home.

She entered the security code, unlocked the door, and walked inside. Empty bottles and clutter littered the living room, while the air was thick with the heavy scent of liquor.

The divorce agreement she had placed on the table the previous day remained exactly where she had left it. Hiding the emotions in her eyes, she walked over to retrieve it.

As soon as she picked it up, she noticed Ryan's signature line was still empty.

While she stood there in thought, footsteps sounded behind her. She turned around.

Ryan stood in the bedroom doorway. He was visibly drunk, with dark shadows beneath his eyes and hair that looked as though he had not bothered to comb it.

Even in such a worn state, his striking appearance remained undeniable. There was still a careless, self-destructive charm about him.

She realized that had probably been what first attracted her to him.

Suppressing the ache inside her heart, she asked coolly, "Why haven't you signed the divorce agreement?"

Ryan crossed the room until he stood before her. He reached for her hand, but she withdrew before he could touch it.

"Bella, does it really have to end like this?" His voice trembled with heartache, while tears shimmered in his eyes, making him appear heartbreakingly vulnerable.

For a brief moment, her expression softened, yet she remained silent with her lips tightly closed.

Ryan carefully caught the edge of her sleeve and gave it a gentle tug, pleading softly, "Sweetheart, I know I messed up. Remember how you always wanted to see the northern lights? Once this project is finished, I'll take time off, and we'll go together. All right?"

His behavior reminded her of their days as boyfriend and girlfriend. Whenever she became upset, Ryan would lower his pride, act adorably, and coax her until she smiled. Only after she forgave him would he finally relax.

This time, however, nothing was the same.

When she offered no response, Ryan asked tentatively, "You didn't come home last night. I couldn't stop worrying. Where were you, Bella?"

Although his concern stirred something inside her, the question pulled her back to reality. A cold smile appeared on her face.

Since their marriage, Ryan had steadily tightened his grip over every part of her life. Eventually, he even tried to stop her from working, treating their home like a cage she was never meant to leave.

She had once mistaken that behavior for insecurity and constantly yielded to him because of it. Only now did she recognize it for what it truly was: control.

She understood that no amount of apologizing or lowering himself could erase the person he really was.

Taking another step away from him, she widened the gap between them. "The tracking application is still installed on my phone, isn't it? Shouldn't you already know exactly where I spent last night?"

Ryan's expression stiffened the instant those words left her mouth.